a shorter chapter but hehehehe
The next few mornings were quiet. Francis only showed up in the very late hours of the night, when both brothers were sleeping, and he awoke and left before they even roused. The clock ticked on and on, until it brought around sweet, sweet, Saturday.
"You're home today, Papa?" Alfred asked with wide eyes, practically jumping up and down today with excitement. These days were rare, after all.
"I'm finally on break for a few days, but I'll still have to work nights at the bar." He yawned, shrugging. Working nights at the bar didn't really mean working there. Unless drinking until he was sick counted as work.
"Just stay here tonight," insisted Matthew, embracing his father – and Alfred also, as the younger of the brothers was already hugging Francis – and letting out a soft whine.
"Fine, fine, only if you two keep me company throughout today," he bargained, raising a champagne-blond brow. "What do you say we go to the cinema today, mm?" Francis hummed, mussing his sons' hair.
"That'd be cool-" Matthew was cut off by an almost-squeal from his brother.
"Can we see the new Iron Man? Please, please, please?!" He cooed, grinning. "All of my friends have seen it and Kiku can't download it for me yet, so can we?"
"Of course, mon petite ange." Francis cooed, giving the two a tight squeeze before pulling out of the hug. "Get dressed, and we can start walking now. You're good to see this movie, Matthieu?" To this, Matthew nodded, a smile of his own tugging at his lips.
As if he was running on adrenaline, Alfred raced about the house, grabbing his day clothes – a hooded jacket, his Iron Man t-shirt, and baggy jeans, and running off to get dressed.
Matthew dressed casually as well, before returning to Francis, who was clad in a plain dress shirt and a loose tie. Ties always seemed to be part of Francis's look, as he usually wore something around his neck. At last, they were ready to go. Alfred joined them, and they set off walking.
"I'm so excited-" Alfred cheered, pumping his hand in the air. Despite his age, he acted like a little kid.
Matthew chuckled softly, elbowing his brother gently. "I know you are, this movie's going to be great." He cooed, ruffling Alfred's hair.
Their chatter was peaceful as they traveled, most of this consisting of Alfred asking various questions to his father about anything and everything. Time for this kind of thing was limited amongst them, so when they had it, he cherished it. This was halted when they drew to a pedestrian crossing.
Francis noticed first, as Alfred was preoccupied with pressing the button on the pole to the side. Matthew saw second, and then, finally, Alfred turned to look to the other side of the crossing. The man across from them all was equally as shocked.
"Arthur.." Francis mumbled, – he seemed to be in a sort of trance – going to take a step forward, but was tugged back by Matthew as a car sped past in front of him.
Arthur seemed to lose all the resolve he'd had as he stood on the other side of the crossing. It seemed that seeing Alfred and Matthew and their dear father Francis pained him greatly.
"Francis! Alfred, Matthew-" He wailed back, lip quivering. "I was just on my way to your place-" he mumbled, lifting the bouquet of flowers he'd been holding to show his former partner.
Lilies and chansons.. Matthew had painted a field of them not too long ago.
"I'm so sorry!" Arthur shouted across the road, holding them out and starting to weep. Francis knew enough not to go forward into the traffic. "Please, I'm begging you, take me back!"
"I-.. Arthur, I'm sorry too-.. I-.. I don't know what to say-" he stammered, staring dumbstruck at the man across from him as another car zoomed past.
"Papa, is Dad coming back..?" Alfred asked softly, nudging his father. Matthew just shushed his brother and glimpsed between each of them, waiting for the answer.
"A-Arthur.." mumbled Francis, tensing up his shoulders. "You're forgiven, Arthur."
Alfred pushed off from Francis, grinning and crying in joy as he went to run across the crossing and embrace his beloved father. His cry of 'Dad!' was cut off mid-way. Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion, at least in Matthew's eyes. Alfred sprinting off, the bus trying to slam on brakes, the skid of wheels.. It was the agonizing opposite of a blur.
It was in only a few seconds that it was Alfred covering the road.
"Alfred-!" The gargled and choked scream came from Matthew, who ran over to the now-bloodied boy on the road. He could only scream in horror as the bus drove off; the driver was probably spooked. "Oh-.. My god-.." Arthur gagged, covering his hand with his mouth, tears pushing at his eyes. Not one of them could even start to comprehend the situation, with Matthew leaning down and latching onto his brother, hugging him like he should've done before today. Thoughts of the movie were erased from his mind.
Alfred's body was twisted, and he was bent in places he shouldn't have been. Blood from a head wound – most probably one from impact with the vehicle – splattered about where he lay. Matthew was too distressed, crying too loudly now and despairing too much to even focus on the scene. His cries were mostly just Alfred's name. Despite the arms of his fathers that slowly snaked around him, he would not stop bawling. Nothing like this had ever happened around him; this scene both frightened and sickened him. The stench of blood polluted the air.
A passerby called paramedics, but the family already knew that it was too late for Alfred to be rescued. He had been dead on impact, Matthew could tell. He was torn away from his fathers and brother and trundled off into an ambulance. Francis, Matthew, and Arthur went along, although at least two of them knew it was pointless. Francis still had some vague hope.
Arthur clutched at the bouquet in his hands, seeing it as nothing but shallow now. He doubted Francis would want it right now anyway. There was something in his mind telling him that the incident was his fault, and he began to believe it. Alfred had been running towards him, after all. He couldn't get anything right, could he? First, his marriage, and then, the life of his own child.
Matthew slumped against Francis in the ambulance, hoarse from his earlier wailing. Pathetically, he fixed his glasses, and buried his face in his father's sleeve. The Frenchman just glanced between his son – he made sure to pat his head gently – and Arthur, the latter of which he held hands with. Even though their grounds were shaky now, that tiny fragment of comfort was what he was craving.
The hospital was as miserable as ever. There was the smell of medicine and plastic all through it, and it made Matthew feel vile in the stomach. It hurt him to even walk at this point, for he was feeling rather destroyed from the inside out. This was supposed to be a happy day out with their father. He felt even worse for not sensing what his painting had been, this very event of the bus crash!
The trio waited outside of the emergency room, as doctors danced about Alfred with their tools and bandages. It was a hard hour of waiting before anyone came out to give them an update. Matthew had honestly been expecting a grim verdict.
"Misters Bonnefoy, your son is suffering blood loss and trauma," the doctor stated, glancing down to her clipboard. God, they sure were subtle, weren't they? Francis and Arthur just squeezed the hands of one another. "However, he is sitting at a stable condition for now." She nodded, and smiled weakly as Matthew pulled his fathers into a tight hug.
It wasn't as if Arthur was just suddenly back into their good books, but he was comfort, and family, and nothing breaks the bonds of family.
"He's alive-" breathed Matthew, smiling shakily. "Papa, he's alive!" He repeated, clutching at Francis's shirt.
"Alfred's alive.." he wheezed, eliciting a quiet and celebratory laugh. Arthur was awkward around them, since his absence had been long and painful, but he tried to chip in anyway.
After a few more minutes, they were allowed in one by one to check up on Alfred. The elder two agreed that Matthew should go first.